Moving Poem

"Write your dreams," said Carolyn Kizer, (She, the wiser of our workshop fools.) New rules for us, so I rise from bed, still cordoned in sleep to record this one of many in which you star, now far away, to help you pack, knowing you'd be back always, from where without me, time took you. In the midst of this, you turned to embrace and enter me with such ferocity of passion as was your fashion, anyway; the door shut against all comers, no pun intended, until our first- born knocked and entered as he did that February day so long ago, and when you were gone, he said, "I never thought of you as lovers," and I said, laughing, "How did you think we got you? by divine design and direct intention. " Husband of late, you attend me now, it seems, only in the parallel universe of dreams.